


Bedtime Story

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dad,” Max said quietly, looking up at Grantaire with wide, anxious eyes, “are you and Daddy getting a divorce?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JJ91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ91/gifts).



> For the ever wonderful, ever supportive JJ91's birthday! Happy birthday, dearest, and I wish you all the best in this coming year!!
> 
> Basically just kidfic, domestic fluff. Technically could be a sequel to [this drabble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/841398/chapters/1680880), since Enjolras and Grantaire's son is also named Max there.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Max had been quiet ever since he had gotten home from school, which was unusual -- normally he was overflowing with excitement, ready to tell Grantaire all about his day. Instead, he sat down to his homework without complaint, and only half-heartedly colored when Grantaire suggested they take a break from homework to work on art instead.

For his part, Grantaire knew Max was not just a miniature Enjolras in appearance, but also in some personality aspects, and confronting him about what was wrong wouldn’t necessarily help matters, not when he was brooding -- he had to wait for Max to open up to him.

So he went about his afternoon and evening like normal, as if nothing was wrong, making dinner for them both since Enjolras had a meeting that evening and wouldn’t be eating dinner with them. He even made spirals macaroni and cheese, Max’s favorite, but it only got a half-hearted smile from him when he saw.

Finally, after dinner, when Max would normally be begging to play on Enjolras’s iPad or watch TV, or even just to stay up late to wait for Enjolras to come home, Max instead slipped into the kitchen as Grantaire finished cleaning up and sat down at the table. “Dad,” he said quietly, looking up at Grantaire with wide, anxious eyes, “are you and Daddy getting a divorce?”

For a moment, panic rose in Grantaire’s throat, because was it possible that Max knew something Grantaire didn’t? Had he overheard Enjolras say something? But then Grantaire remembered that he and Enjolras had that very morning spent almost an hour making love before Enjolras got up to get Max ready for school, letting Grantaire sleep in a little, and then Enjolras had popped back in to kiss Grantaire and tell him that he loved him and had made extra pancakes for him, and while to some people that may not sound like much, for Enjolras and Grantaire it was the world.

So clearly, Max’s fears were unfounded, and Grantaire managed a genuine smile. “Your father and I are definitely _not_ getting a divorce,” he said firmly, sitting down in his chair so that he could be more on Max’s level. “What made you think that we were?”

Max didn’t smile, clearly not convinced that his dads weren’t getting divorced. “My friend Kelly’s mom and dad are getting divorced,” he told Grantaire, his voice rising in pitch as he went on. “And, and, she said that they fight all the time! And you and Daddy fight about _everything_! And she said her dad’s at work _all_ the time, and Daddy’s always busy at work lately!”

He looked so miserable, and Grantaire wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and give him a hug. He settled instead for shaking his head, his tone gentle and reassuring as he said, “I am very sorry to hear about your friend’s parents. But your father and I aren’t like that, I promise. Your father has been working a lot recently because he’s trying to get some friends of his that work for the government to help him with something, and because it’s an election year, he thinks they might be more willing to help. You remember your father explaining elections to you?”

Max nodded slowly, but he still seemed skeptical. “But that doesn’t explain why you guys fight all the time.”

Grantaire paused to consider how best to explain it. “Sometimes, when two people are very much in love, they use arguments as a way to show their love. Your father and I...we love talking to each other and teasing each other, and sometimes we don’t agree. Like you know how you like Spider-Man but I like Captain America?” Max nodded. “Well, people who love each other can disagree, and since your father’s a stubborn son of a biscuit, sometimes we argue when we disagree. It's not fighting, and it's very rarely serious. And I promise you, it’s because we love each other.”

Making a face, Max said slowly, “But that doesn’t seem like something people who love each other should do.”

Shrugging, Grantaire told him, “Everyone’s different, squirt. But it’s how your father and I work. We don’t know any other way. And we love each other even more today than when we first fell in love.” When Max still didn’t look convinced, Grantaire propped his chin on his hand and asked slyly, “Say, have I told you the story about the dragon and the prince who argued all the time?”

Max shook his head, eyes wide. “No! I want to hear that story.”

“Then go get your PJs on, and I’ll tell you it for your bedtime story, alright?” Max nodded and scooched off of his chair to run to his bedroom. Grantaire shook his head affectionately and followed him at a much slower pace. Once Max had his pajamas on, had brushed his teeth with Grantaire’s help, and had studiously picked a stuffed animal to accompany him to bed (his stuffed tiger named, conveniently, ‘Tiger’), Grantaire picked Max up and swung him around, Max giggling wildly, before plopping down on the bed, dragging Max with him. “Comfortable, squirt?”

Nodding, Max snuggled against Grantaire’s side. “Comfortable. Now tell me the story!”

Grantaire chuckled and smoothed his son’s golden hair. “What’s the magic word?”

Max rolled his eyes and for a moment looked so much like Enjolras that Grantaire’s breath caught in his throat. “ _Please_ tell me the story?”

“That’s more like it.” Grantaire’s voice changed slightly, taking on the timbre of a storyteller, his hand running through his son’s hair rhythmic. “Once upon a time, there was a dragon named R. He was a very lonely dragon and thought that he was ugly and that no one would ever love him. And then one day, a prince from a nearby kingdom was riding his horse through the forest when R saw him. The prince had long, golden curls and was the most handsome man R had ever seen. So he decided to capture the prince and take him prisoner, because dragons love pretty things.”

Max shifted slightly but didn’t interrupt, and Grantaire continued, “But what R didn’t know was that the prince was more than just incredibly handsome. He was also argumentative and stubborn, and spent the entire flight back to R’s cave telling him all the reasons R should let him go. In fact, all R and the prince ever seemed to do was fight. They couldn’t agree on anything. The prince thought that he was going to change the world, and R, well, he just wanted to spend his life happy in his cave. But as they fought, they realized that they enjoyed fighting with each other, and R realized that his life in his cave wouldn’t be happy without the prince there to argue with him. And R realized that he was in love with the prince.”

Grantaire voice turned softer, almost fond. “And R realized that if he really loved the prince, he couldn’t keep him prisoner, no matter how much he loved arguing with him. But then the most amazing thing happened: when he offered to set the prince free, the prince told R that he wanted to stay, because he loved arguing with R, too.”

He looked down at Max, whose breathing had long since evened out as he relaxed into sleep, and told him, though he was sleeping, “Well, I’ll tell you the end some other time.”

“Hey, I was listening to that story.”

Grantaire looked up to find Enjolras leaning against the door, smiling at him, and smiled back, bending down to kiss Max’s head before carefully sliding out of his bed. Max didn’t even stir, just curled up into the empty space where Grantaire had lain, his expression content in sleep. Tiptoeing across the room, Grantaire kissed Enjolras lightly on the lips. “When did you get home?”

Enjolras reached around Grantaire to close Max’s door, leaving it open a crack, and took Grantaire’s hand, pulling him towards the living room. “About ten minutes ago,” he said, sighing heavily. “The meeting ran long.” He sat down on the couch and pulled Grantaire onto his lap, smiling when Grantaire half-heartedly protested. “What was that whole story about?”

Grantaire snuggled against Enjolras, leaning his head on Enjolras’s shoulder. “Oh, a girl in his class told him that her parents are getting a divorce because they fight all the time and her dad works constantly.”

“And because we fight all the time and I’ve been working a lot recently, Max was worried,” Enjolras finished, nodding in understanding. He raised a hand to run his fingers through Grantaire’s hair. “And I’m assuming you told him that he has absolutely nothing to worry about?”

“Of course,” Grantaire said, smiling.

Enjolras turned his head to press a kiss to Grantaire’s forehead. “So how _did_ that story you were telling end? You’ve got me curious now.”

Grantaire lifted his head to smile at Enjolras and tell him simply, “They lived happily ever after.”

Enjolras’s expression softened and he kissed Grantaire on the lips. “Of course,” he said, pulling Grantaire even closer and kissing him again. “And so will we.”


End file.
